


Dream Job

by Indigo2831



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Phoenix Fam, Protective Jack Dalton (MacGyver 2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28730631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indigo2831/pseuds/Indigo2831
Summary: Some days, Matty hates her job.  It's usually the ones when Dalton and MacGyver are left to their own devices.
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 58





	Dream Job

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like we all need to laugh right now, so please enjoy my attempt at a lighthearted fic. Take care of yourselves.

Matty Webber indulges in one last sigh of flustered annoyance, topping it off with an epic eyeroll before stretching a smile on her face as a trio of suits crossed the lobby to greet her with stern faces and stoic handshakes. “Welcome,” she says with an unmovable smile and clenched teeth.

On days like this, when she has two teams in the field, three debriefs to prep for, and one extremely delicate meeting with a burgeoning republic, she hates her job. There are countries burning and agents in danger, and she’d rather be putting out fires in the war room than playing tour guide to the alphabet crew from the CIA and NSA. 

But every job has occupational hazards. Mac and Jack face the threat of torture and/or death on a daily basis. Waterboarding, interagency cooperation meetings, tomato, tamahto. 

She walks the stuffed shirts through the lobby and down to the sub-levels, schmoozing the best she can and ignoring the bored sighs and stilted responses. It’s all Matty can do to not rip the cellphone out of the Blue Tie’s hands. He hasn’t looked up or reacted to her completely-not-scripted banter once. 

She gestures for the gentleman to follow her into the lab. They venture through the airlock and she punches in her keycode. “This is one of four state-of-the-art labs we have here at the Phoenix. You don’t have clearance for the other three, but this one is where the magic happens. We recruit some of the very best minds from MIT, Oxford, Harvard, and Yale,” she explains. “You’ll see they’re working on some of the most cutting edge and innovative technology in the world.” 

The automatic doors part to reveal an image of Jack Dalton’s backside in too-tight jeans, his sweat-stained henley rucked up to mid-back, upended lab stools, and the long, flailing legs of what she can only assume is MacGyver. He breaks free with an impressive buck-and-slither move that Matty may have seen in MMA, crawls under a lab table, and rolls to his feet. Jack, crimson-faced and breathless, mock-salutes Matty and her visitors before bellowing at a fleeing MacGyver. “Gunrunners, Matty. It had to be gunrunners?!” He wheezes. 

Jack barrels across the lab in pursuit of the agile-strided agent, all power and determination in contrast to Mac’s mischief and grace. 

“You’re makin’ me do this, hoss,” Jack warns before he tackles him like the All-American football player he was. Matty’s charges flinch, and Blue Tie finally looks up from his phone. "It's for your own good!"

After some grappling that yields some pretty impressive and dangerous moves, Jack flattens Mac to the linoleum big brother style, straddling his legs with his full weight and pinning his arms down. “You’re slippier than a greased up pig,” he tells a grunting Mac. 

“Jack, stop!" Mac whines. " _ We...have...company _ ,” MacGyver puffs as he plants his sneakered-feet for leverage to buck Jack off of him. When he realizes that he’s trapped under Jack’s thirty-plus extra pounds and bullheaded duty to protect him, he lets his head thunk to the floor, body going limp. 

Jack whips his head around and locks eyes with Sam or Simmons, the oldest of the visitors. “Hey, you, cueball,” he gestured to his nearly bald head. “Hand me that TAC vest on the table.” When he hesitates, “come on, dude, you’re, what? NSA, you’re scared of a bulletproof vest? Gimme it.” 

Looking affronted, he obliges. 

“You know the rule, Mac. When it’s gunrunners, you wear your vest,” Jack forces the vest over Mac’s head, threading his arms through it like a parent dressing a tantrumming toddler. 

MacGyver smiles grimly and offers a restrained wave at their guests. As Jack produces a roll of Phoenix-developed duct tape (that can only be removed with a specific solvent) and noisily wheels off strips, Macgyver cranes his head back to better see the visitors, wild blond hair fanned out against the floor in damp streaks. “You should check out the bioluminescent toxin detector that I’m developing. It’s a compound that is showing real promise of detecting and identifying toxins in the field,” MacGyver says as he flicks his eyes to a glass case at the back of the lab that hums a calming blue. “I’ll show you my ideas for other practical applications when I’m not...otherwise engaged.”

Clearly uncomfortable, the suits scuffle over to the case like a pinstriped flock of nervous birds.

Jack cuts the duct tape with his teeth and seals the velcro straps of the vest. 

Matty flushes with an apoplectic combination of embarrassment and rage—a MacGyver-Dalton special. 

“Don’t make me get padlocks,” he says as he confiscates MacGyver’s Swiss Army knife. “You’ll get this back when I know you’re not going to take that off.”

“I can’t move in these things!” MacGyver yells in his face. 

“You can’t move with a bullet in your heart either, genius.” 

“You’re the sniper. You know the head is a much more obvious target,” MacGyver sulks from the floor. “I think you bruised a hip with that takedown.” 

Jack crosses his arms, fire in his eyes. “I wish I would have broken it, then you’d be benched. Matty, what deal did we make about gunrunners?” 

Matty abandons them all to go scream in their rendition room, and wonders if it’s too late to become an accountant.


End file.
